Nom de Plume
by harlequincabaret
Summary: Lita has a lot on her mind: a missing friend, family, and a rigorous year of studying to prepare for the OWLs. Through a series of anonymous letters, she finds solace at Hogwarts. When Oliver Wood seeks her help, will he be the one to turn it all around?


"Books, quills, Muggle sticky notes…" Lita murmured as she glanced through her list. As she looked over each bulleted point, she'd scan her trunk for the item. "I'm missing something…I just know it." She bit down on the quill between her teeth in deep concentration. Parchment? No, no. She had plenty of that—she'd bought enough for _two_ years at Hogwarts! Money? Her little blue purse was sitting right on top of her stack of jeans. "OH!" She gasped and threw down her notebook and quill in an almost comical way. The quill was sent flying across the room, only to land in her hamper of unwashed clothes. The notebook, miraculously, found its way into the trunk. "My planner! Of course!" She rifled through her desk and pulled out a thick, bulging agenda—already filled to the brim with activities, events, and holidays.

Lita straightened it out a little, folding down corners of unruly pages and reorganizing a few sheets of loose papers. When she set it on the top of her trunk, she smiled triumphantly. _There_. That should be all of it.

She found her list once more and silently ran through it, making sure nothing else was missing from the trunk. She knew if worst came to worst, her mother or father could simply send her something she'd forgotten in the post, but what a hassle that would be!

Everything seemed to be in order, much to her relief. It had been a nightmare getting everything together, and the task of actually packing hadn't been easy either. Her mother had offered to help, but Lita had objected (perhaps a little too harshly). She preferred to do it herself, so she would know _exactly_ where everything was. This particular quirk of hers was well-known among her friends, as well as those in her house.

Lita was a Ravenclaw, in her fifth year. She was an excellent student, naturally. She was curious and creative, like many Ravenclaws, however, she was also devoted to her books and studies. She always had a novel on her person, whether it was a short treatise on Muggle government or a tale of brave witches and warlocks from the past, she always had a piece of literature to keep her satiated. She had come to the realization (with much regret and reluctance) that this year would be one where her leisure time would be severely cut. Although she loved studying and learning new things, she also enjoyed her alone time with her books. But as the OWLs were this year, who knew when she'd have the time to properly sit down and ravenously read? Even so, a significant fraction of her trunk was dedicated to well-loved paperbacks and some hardcover books just waiting for attention. Attention she would very willingly give when she had the time.

With a final glance around her room, she began to lug the trunk into the hallway and down the stairs. She winced with every 'thump' 'boom' 'bang' sound the heavy, wooden box made as it collided with the stairs. She wouldn't have been surprised if the neighbors had heard.

"Lita? Honey?" Her dad called from the kitchen, sounding concerned. "Are you okay?" His voice was getting closer, louder. He was at the bottom of the stairs in no time. "Oh, let me help with that…didn't know you were ready," he mumbled, taking one end of the trunk and helping her lift it down the remaining four or five steps.

"Thanks, Dad." Lita huffed as she set the trunk down, casting a tired smile her father's way.

"No problem, sweetie. Almost ready to go?"

"Almost. I just want to eat a little something before we go to the train station."

He nodded and shuffled away, searching for the keys to the family's van.

Lita's mom, Linda, was in the kitchen tidying up, as usual. Lita had grown to understand that Linda was the reason for her mild case of OCD. Linda was always cleaning, always reorganizing, not too unlike Lita herself.

"Morning, Lita! Care for a cuppa?"

"No tea, mum. I wouldn't mind some jam on toast, though."

Linda tilted her head towards the sliced loaf of bread on the cutting board. "All yours," she said, and then went back to scrubbing every little speck off of the plate in her hands.

Lita picked two slices from the stack and popped them in the toaster. There was a faster way to do this: magic. But she wasn't allowed yet; she was not yet seventeen. And her parents, while witches and wizards, preferred to take a more 'domestic' approach to living. Her neighbors were all Muggles, and should they catch even the shortest glimpse of anything extraordinary, who knew what would happen?

Even though she understood the practical reasoning behind her parents' decision to hide their magic the best they could (at least among the Muggles), Lita still could not wait to turn seventeen—to come of age. To be able to use magic whenever she wanted to or needed to! What a gift.

This was partially why she was so eager to return to Hogwarts. She yearned to learn anything and everything. New knowledge was something she thirsted for, and the ability to not only _learn_, but also to _practice _what she had learned was thrilling.

Lita coated her toast in raspberry jam with haste. She devoured the tiny squared of bread just as quickly, and was soon bouncing out the door to the van. Linda said her goodbyes from the driveway. She would not be accompanying Lita to King's Cross, because she had an appointment in Diagon Alley at Gringotts to make a deposit.

Some parents weep when they send their children off to Hogwarts, but Linda did not. Linda knew how much Lita enjoyed it, and although the distance would not be convenient or pleasant, she recalled her own days at the wizarding school. The very thought of the freedom of being on your own was enough to replace tears with a bright smile.

"Good luck this year, Lita. We'll be seeing you at Christmas, and it will come sooner than you expect!"

"I know, mum. I'll miss you all the same."

A brief hug, and another shared smile. And then Lita and her father (whose name was Rassilion) were in the van driving to the station.

….

The drive the station felt like an eternity, but when she entered King's Cross, she felt renewed. There was so much happening, so many people scurrying about, rushing to catch their trains. She saw Muggles running this way and that, and witches and wizards wearing poor attempts at Muggle clothing. It made her snigger.

But beneath all the happiness she felt towards the first day of school, she couldn't help but feel a void inside of her. It was on this day of all days that she missed her most. Delilah.

The name rang through her mind and she lost the bounce in her step, though Rassilion didn't take notice. He was too busy observing his fellow wizards with a crinkled nose. He disapprovd of their ill chosen threads. He was wearing a nice suit himself, something many of the male Muggles were sporting.

Delilah. She'd been Lita's best friend. Until a few years ago.

Her mother had died. An accident they said. One wrong flick of her wrist and her wand had turned on her. So they said.

Delilah's father rushed them out of the country, off the continent, apparently. To the United States, or Canada. Somewhere in North America. And after the first letter from Delilah, Lita had never heard from her again.

They'd gone to Hogwarts together for two years. That was it. They'd been inseparable for that little bit of time they had together, but it was over just as suddenly as it had started. The memory of Delilah being taken away from Transfiguration class was still so clear…

"Here we are, Lita." Rassilion grinned at the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. "Feels like only yesterday you were running through it for the first time. Your fifth year! Golly, time flies."

"You're not coming with me?" She asked as she stepped tentatively towards the wall, the trolley' handle firmly in her grip.

"Do you want me to?" He tipped his head to the side in surprise.

"No, no. I'm fine." She said quickly, not wanting to look silly or immature. "I'll see you soon, dad."

"Have a good semester, Lita. Christmas will be here quicker than you can say 'blood pop'. I'll miss you."

"Miss you, too, daddy." The father and daughter hugged briefly, and then Lita when running into the wall. But of course, she did not get hurt. She went soaring through to the other side—like it was a portal. When her vision focused, she was standing in the shadow of the Hogwarts Express.


End file.
